Beverly Long - Urgent Pursuit

Chief Poole hefted himself out of the chair. He pulled up his pants and they immediately sagged below his belly again. “Gary Blake was scheduled to start work at seven this morning. When he didn’t show, Officer Stone drove to his house.”

“And?” Bray prompted when the police chief stopped.

“And Gary wasn’t there.”

“Big deal,” Bray said. “Maybe he got his days mixed up and he thought he had a vacation day. He’s out shopping for a turkey right now.”

“There were signs of a very fast exit from the house. A small amount of blood at the scene.”

He could see Summer’s eyes, hear the sincerity in her voice. He knew I’d kill him if he did that. “So, he cut himself shaving and went to the emergency room.”

“Maybe,” Chief Poole said. “But, you know, police officers make a lot of enemies.”

Bray wanted to see Blake’s house. Cops in small towns weren’t well trained in investigating crime scenes—they simply didn’t see enough of them.

But as much as he wanted to view the scene, he wanted to see Summer more. He had to know what she’d done. Had his questions about Blake spurred on memories that she’d been unable to deal with?

“How long are you expecting to be in town, Mr. Hollister?”

“Through Sunday.”

“And you’re staying here at this house?”

Bray nodded.

“Good,” the chief said. “I want to know where I can find you if I have more questions.”

Bray didn’t answer. He simply watched the man walk to the front door and let himself out. He counted to three before his brothers got to the living room.

They each had the same worried look in their eyes. Probably right now were thinking of good defense attorneys.

“Listen,” he said, “I didn’t do anything to Gary Blake.”

“Blood at the scene,” Chase said.

“Small amount. I heard the man,” Bray said, irritated. He’d been back in town for less than a day, and Gary Blake, who had caused him so much heartache years ago when he’d married Bray’s girl, was still causing trouble. “There’s probably a list of people a page long that want to get Blake for one reason or another.”

“Summer,” Cal said.

Bray didn’t say anything.

“You don’t think she did something, do you?” Chase asked.

Bray had no idea what Summer was capable of. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I think I better ask her.”

* * *

SUMMER HAD REALLY never thought much about Charlie Poole. He’d been Gary’s boss for about five years. He was polite to her when he came into the restaurant, ordered two eggs and bacon with a side of biscuits and gravy every day of his life, and tipped poorly.

She’d never had cause to worry about him until now, when he’d come in and asked if he could speak to her privately.

“We don’t have much private space,” she said.

He said nothing. She put down her coffeepot, led him back to the kitchen, smiled at Milo, the grill cook, to let him know that everything was okay and took a spot in the corner, where she could keep an eye on the dining room through the small window in the swinging door.

She felt sick when the chief told her why he was there. Gary. Missing. Blood at the scene. An open gallon of milk on the table. A half-eaten bowl of cereal. The back door unlocked and not closed tight.

What the hell? Her first thoughts were of her children. What would she tell them?

But before she could get her head around it, Chief Poole started asking questions.

“I understand you were at the church yesterday,” he said. “That you and Gary were in the basement.”

Julie had probably mentioned it to her brother-in-law. She was a lovely piano player but a terrible gossip.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think you two had much to do with each other anymore.”

“We share children,” she said. “This coming weekend was Gary’s weekend to have them, but he needed to switch.”

“Why?”

She’d wondered the same thing. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal to switch. But because she would be busy catering the wedding, she’d pushed back a little. That had seemed to set him off. “I don’t know.”

“So after you left the church, you went straight home?”

“Yes.” It dawned on her that the chief hadn’t asked any questions about what had happened at the church between her and Gary. Was it because Julie had given him enough that he’d realized that his second-in-command might have been in the wrong and he didn’t want any additional documentation of the fact?

And speaking of documentation, the chief wasn’t making any notes. He had yet to pull his notebook from his pocket. In his left breast pocket, he had the same kind of notebook that Gary never went anywhere without. Once, early on in the marriage, she hadn’t realized that he hadn’t removed it from his pocket and she’d put it in the washing machine. That had caused a crisis that involved attempting to dry out thirty or so small pages because he’d needed those quick notations to fill out the endless reports that he’d hated.

Maybe the chief had a really good memory. Or maybe he realized that she didn’t have anything to gain by harming Gary.

“And did you have any visitors last night?” he asked.

She wasn’t trained in police work, but thought she might be a better interrogator than the chief. He clearly already knew that she had indeed had a visitor. Perhaps he’d already spoken to Mrs. Hudder. Or to Bray.

He’d been upset when he’d left her house. She’d known that he was having difficulty dealing with what she’d told him. Had he taken out his anger on Gary?

Had Bray become sucked into the tangled relationship that she had with her ex? It was a horrifying thought. When would her bad decisions stop hurting Bray Hollister?

She was confident that he would tell the truth, that he would not run from it. He’d always had more character than her. “Bray Hollister stopped by. He didn’t stay long. Then I fixed my children dinner, watched some television and went to bed by ten.”

“Can anyone verify that you were home all evening?” he asked.

Had she been wrong about his intent? Was she really a...suspect? She pressed her hand to her empty stomach.

Hell, yes, there were times I wanted him gone, she wanted to say. But admitting that she’d spent valuable time she didn’t have as a single parent imagining how nice it would be if he would simply disappear wasn’t going to help her.

“No,” she said. “But I was.” She looked through the small window in the door and saw that four new customers had come in while she’d been talking with the chief. They were looking around, staring wistfully at the coffeepot, probably wondering where the heck she was. “I really need to get back to the dining room,” she said. As Milo flipped his pancakes, he was slapping the flat end of his stainless-steel spatula on the hot grill, letting her know that he was watching and ready to assist if she needed it.

“Just a couple more questions,” Chief Poole said, holding up his hand. “Has Gary ever done this before, just disappear unexpectedly?”

Once or twice toward the end of their marriage, he’d been gone for a few days. Getting his head together. That was what he always told her. She suspected that involved a stack of chips and a deck of cards, but by then, she hadn’t really cared enough to probe.

“Sometimes to fish or to gamble.” It dawned on her that the chief probably knew Gary as well as she did. That made this an even more awkward conversation.

The chief nodded. “I probably should check to see if his rods are still there.”

She didn’t say anything, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.

“Do you know anybody who had a particular beef with Gary?”